


What do you want?

by Lady_Arkena



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 16:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Arkena/pseuds/Lady_Arkena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo worries for Beorn and can't sleep.</p><p>This is movie!Beorn. He just deserves some lovely smutty action.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What do you want?

**What do you want?**

Bilbo stared at the wooden ceiling. He had watched Beorn's huge form all day. The skin-changer's story had saddened him … so full of pain and loneliness. Nobody deserved such a fate. He sighed into the darkness. The dwarves and Gandalf were fast asleep, but he was wide awake. Their host were hunting Azog and his ork pack in the woods and he couldn't stop worrying. He knew he should rest, but he couldn't. Amber eyes (sometimes hollow and desolate, sometimes angry and full of hate) invaded his mind as soon as he tried to sleep.

He sighed again, before he stood up and silently went outside. The sliver of the moon shone brightly tonight, bathing the landscape in silvery light. Bilbo gazed in amazement, enjoying the unexpected haven of peace in a world of danger and violence. It wouldn't last, but for now it was enough to ease his troubled mind. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

Suddenly he heard the crackling sound of breaking branches. A huge bear came out of the woods, but before the hobbit could back down into the safe house, the beast's body changed. Within a few seconds Beorn kneeled on the soft grass, groaning and panting. His naked form was covered in mud, sweat and black blood.

Bilbo slowly approached him. “Are you alright?”

“What are you doing out here, little bunny?” the skin-changer growled warily, still on his knees.

“I was waiting for you,” the hobbit admitted. When he noticed that his answer didn't satisfied their host, he continued, “I feared for you and couldn't sleep.” Then without thinking he reached out and tenderly removed a leaf from the dark mane.

Beorn stared at him, his expression blank and unreadable.

“I‘ve watched you,” Bilbo whispered, while he absent-mindedly played with the surprisingly soft hair. “You are caring and gentle. You are dangerous, too … but not evil. You would never harm someone innocent.”

The tall man snorted, “I almost killed you and your companions.”

The hobbit lowered his hand and shrugged. “We aren't innocent.”

Beorn tipped his head in surprise, gazing at him with new-found respect and sadness in his eyes. After some moments he agreed, “No, you are not … not anymore. The dwarves took it from you.”

“Don't be angry. It was my own choice. I wanted to come with them,” Bilbo soothed him, stroking his dark strands again.

“And what do you want now?” the skin-changer asked. He deliberately ignored the small hand in his hair, not daring to hope what these caresses were implying. It had been far too long since he had felt a lover's touch. It was only a fading memory. Sometimes he even feared that it had never been real, that it was just his imagination.

The hobbit smiled shyly and murmured, “Tonight I want to get to know you … take care of you … if you will allow it.”

Without warning Beorn stood up and gestured his little guest to follow him behind the house, where he started to wash himself in a small steam, being glad to get rid of blood and filth. It had been a good hunt. He had killed two orcs and three wargs, but the satisfying thrill had just last for a few minutes, before he felt hollow and tired once more.

Suddenly he felt a warm hand on his arm, tenderly caressing his chilly and damp skin. “May I?” the hobbit said tentatively. He was naked, too. His clothes lay on a neat pile beside Beorn's own ones. The skin-changer nodded and sat down on the grassy riverside, waiting.

Bilbo drank in the huge, muscular body in front of him, licking his lips in anticipation. A low growl and a silent question in his host's amber eyes brought him back to reality. “Sorry, I … I got a little bit sidetracked,” he stammered apologetically and hastily began to wash away the remaining stains of Beorn's hunt.

“I scared you.”

The hobbit looked up in surprise when he heard the skin-changer's remorseful words. “No! No, really I'm … I'm just nervous. And …” he tried to reassure, but to no avail. He suppressed a frustrated groan and slowly bent forward, brushing the tall man's lips with his own in a chaste kiss, only lingering for a brief moment, before he whispered, “I do not fear you.”

Bilbo kissed him again, bolder this time, gently coaxing Beorn's mouth open, while his hands found their way back into the dark mane. He moaned softly, feeling tentative caresses on his back. When he broke their kiss, he snuggled into the broad neck, murmuring, “Tell me, what you want.”

The skin-changer stiffened. _Tell me, what you want._ He knew what he wanted, was wrong. They had been his friends, his kin … then why did he almost always feel pain and hate when he thought about them? And the hobbit? Obviously he had searched for some pleasurable company and not a mentally twisted and broken beast of a man.

“Beorn?” Worry coloured Bilbo's voice, when he saw the man's painful expression. “It's alright. Just tell me,” he soothed and waited patiently.

“I want to forget,” Beorn finally rasped and closed his eyes in shame and disgust. Surely the hobbit would leave him now, but his caresses and feather-light touches didn't stop. His little guest whispered encouraging words into his ear and told him about his own parents and his home.

“Sometimes everything in my smial reminds me of them, but I only see my father's lifeless body in the snow or my mother's empty eyes after his death. In these moments I hate Bag End and I just want to run away and forget. Later I'm ashamed of myself, because they deserve a son, who honours their memories and doesn't trample on them. But I'm not a bad person, because I don't want their deaths and memories to dominate my life ... and I know they wouldn't want that, too.”

The longer the following silence lasted the more uncertain Bilbo got. Maybe it had been a mistake to compare their situations. He had never been enslaved nor had to watch the death of his entire race. His own loneliness was nothing in relation to Beorn's.

He just opened his mouth to apologise, when strong arms embraced him. They silently held each other for a few minutes. Their touches and caresses weren't passionate, only comforting and understanding.

Bilbo didn’t want to break their hug, but unfortunately his feet got colder and colder with each passing moment. “Would you mind, if we relocate?” he asked awkwardly and gestured down, where water lapped around his calves. “My toes are a bit numb and …”

A surprised, little squeak escaped his throat, when his host lifted him like a child and carried him to their piles of clothes, where Beorn laid him down carefully, using his large, woollen tunic as pillow. Big, warm hands enfolded his cold feet and the hobbit sighed happily.

“Better?” the skin-changer asked after a while.

“Yes, thank you.” Bilbo smiled. For the first time he didn't saw sadness or anger in the other's amber eyes, but something akin to wonder and hope. When he reached for the tall man, they met each other in a lazy dance of tongues and lips.

“Make me forget … please,” Beorn groaned with an open and nearly vulnerable expression.

The hobbit spent no time and slowly arranged him, enjoying Beorn's eager obedience. When he finally bent over his lover, he gazed in awe at the huge body, squirming under him in anticipation.

“Are you getting sidetracked again?” the skin-changer growled in confusion.

“Stop being gorgeous and it won't happen so often,” Bilbo replied mischievously. His fingers danced over hard muscles under smooth skin, tickling and teasing. He playfully nibbled at sensitive neck and chuckled, when Beorn growled again.

“You are magnificent,” the hobbit murmured between kisses, leaving a wet path over his host’s collarbones down to his chest, where he voluptuously sucked at the rosy nipples until they were hard, little nubs.

The skin-changer groaned and shamelessly arched his spine, begging for more. It had been far too long, since he had felt anything other than dull pain or hateful anger and his half-hearted attempts to pleasure himself had always intensified his loneliness. Maybe this was just the last gasp of his mind, before his memories of happier days would disappear completely. Surely he would wake up any moment … alone and cold.

But the hobbit’s small body remained. Beorn could feel his heat and the skin of his chest, stomach and arms tingled because of feverish kisses and caresses. It was intoxicating and he wanted more. He would deal with his pangs of conscience and thoughts of goodbye tomorrow, because in this moment it was much easier to give up control.

“More, please … please, I need ...” he rasped and eagerly spread his legs, groaning wantonly when nimble fingers stroked his thighs. Every coherent thought fled his mind, while his blood rushed down and filled his cock.

But Bilbo deliberately ignored the skin-changer's leaking erection and explored his knees and calves. He was surprised that Beorn never tried to reach for himself, although he desperately begged for some friction. Instead his hands grasped soft grass or his woolen tunic. Finally the hobbit had mercy on him. He gently nibbled and sucked at the glistening tip, while he massaged the thick base and heavy balls.

Bilbo had never wanted to dominate any of his lovers, but the tall man's wanton pleas and sobs awakened some new desires deep inside of him. He used every trick to give Beorn as much pleasure as possible, but never let him cum, enjoying like he trembled and writhed because of him.

His hand wandered slowly lower and tickled the skin-changer’s perineum, before he lightly rubbed against his puckered entrance. The hobbit watched in awe, when it twitched under his fingertips, while his host moaned and bent his legs to give his lover better access.

“So responsive,” Bilbo murmured approvingly, wetting his fingers in his mouth and pushed one carefully through the tight ring of muscles.

“What …?” Beorn keened in surprise, but immediately surrendered himself to this new pleasure. “Yes … more … AAAAHHHHH …” His hips bucked uncontrollably, when the wriggling digit slid deeper and hit something inside him. Before one of them could react, the skin-changer came all over the hobbit’s hand. After a few moments of pure bliss, he finally tried to regain some control over his quivering body. But as soon as he wanted to move, he felt a playful slap on his thigh.

“Don’t! We’re not finished,” Bilbo ordered and smiled satisfied at his lover’s obedience. He generously lubricated his finger with Beorn’s seed and began to stretch his hole. The tall man groaned wantonly, when first two than three digits disappeared inside his tight arse, while his cock stirred again.

The hobbit couldn’t believe his eyes. The skin-changer was completely at his mercy and judging by his shamelessly lustful sounds even enjoyed his current role in their love-making. Soon Bilbo couldn’t wait anymore and carefully inserted his seed-slick cook. The heat and tightness were incredible.

“You feel so … oooohhhhh sooo good,” he moaned and desperately tried not to cum just yet. He wanted to savour his lover as long as possible, feeling him spasm and twitch around his erection.

When the hobbit started slightly pushing back and forth Beorn eagerly met his every trust. Soon they found a rhythm and Bilbo took him with a steady pace, huskily ordering, “Touch yourself. I want you to cum for me again.”

The skin-changer blushed, but he hesitated only for a brief moment, before he obeyed. His cock throbbed in his hands and glistened in the moonlight. He only needed a few strokes and fell over the edge once more.

The hobbit followed him shortly after, when his lover's muscles contracted around his dick, milking him dry. He collapsed on top of the tall man and couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. The stress and exertions of the last days finally took a toll on him. He sighed tiredly and barely noticed when Beorn arranged his small body, carefully carrying him back into the house.


End file.
